Russian Roulette
by SamieJamesBait
Summary: 6 friends. 6 guns. 6 Bullets. One game. Russian Roulette. What lead each of them to the point they pulled the trigger?   * Entry for A Picture says it all challenge NOW CONTINUED *


PenName: SamieJamesBait  
Image # Used: #16  
Title: Russian Roulette  
Word Count: 3870

Rating:M

Summary: 6 friends. 6 guns. 6 Bullets. One game. Russian Roulette. What lead each of them to the point they pulled the trigger? This is Alice's story.

* * *

**Words**

Spliff: Joint, weed.

Stoned: High

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I am not Stephenie Meyer. This story may contain subject matter, and imagery that may not be suitable for all ages. Also, I like to curse. _Yee be warned! _

**A/N:** _Back by popular demand..._ Haha, I kid, I kid. I am not Eminem. However, since a lot of you who read this story wish for me to continue, I figured I would.

As always, huge love and massive boners to my fuckawesome Beta Savannah-Vee.

* * *

Alice's Story

It's not the sound of the alarm that wakes me; it's the sound of a door slamming - the bathroom door to be precise. Rubbing my sleep-sticky eyes I reluctantly sit up, swinging my legs from the bed. I have no idea of the time, and I'm hesitant to pull back the thick purple curtain that covers my window to check if the day has dawned yet. There is nothing worse than the first rays of sunlight hitting your eyes in the morning.

With my feet dangling over the side of the bed, I stretch my arms out above my head, enjoying the stretching sensation in my stiff muscles. My eyes scan around my room, but I can't see much. It's too dark, and there isn't much to see. All I have in my bedroom is my bed and a pile of clothes in the corner. Not even a wardrobe. I used to have two wardrobes and a full length mirror, but my mother or sister sold them at some point for their own personal drug of choice.

My senses become alert as I grow accustom to being awake, and the first thing to hit me is the smell of wet dog. It's funny, we have never owned a dog, and to my knowledge a dog has never been inside our house, yet it always smells of wet dog. I think it's more down to the dilapidation of the place; you can taste the damp walls in the air.

Leaving my room wearing only a t-shirt and boy-short panties, I walk into the living room, where my mother is meditating on the rug by the fire. The smell of recently smoked weed is heavy in the air, and I notice the spliff in the ash-tray. Walking around my mother I take the joint, re-light it and take a draw. I hold the smoke in my mouth before inhaling, enabling the smoke to become more potent. It's a trick James had taught me.

Walking back around my mother – who wouldn't be talking to anyone until she had finished meditating - I made my way to the kitchen, still smoking the half-joint that once belonged to my mother. On the way to the kitchen, I pass the bathroom. The door is ajar slightly and I see my sister, Cynthia, shooting up. It's a testament to my life that this sight does not shock me, in-fact I ignore it.

The kitchen floor is cold under my bare feet, but that isn't my biggest problem.

"Morning, sweet tits," James says, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

I smile at him; I can't help it. He looks entirely too fuckable first thing in the morning. Wearing just a pair of grey sweat pants that hang low on the chiselled 'V' that lead to something I should never have seen, but have.

He head tilts to the side as his blue eyes roam over my body. I know what he is thinking, and I want it. However, I have school. And my mother is awake. She may be laidback about a lot of things, but I think finding her daughter fucking her boyfriend in the kitchen would be a step too far.

"Don't even think about it, James, I have school," I point out, walking past him to the fridge. The milk is on the bottom shelf, so I lean down and pick it up, leaving my arse jutting into the air. I sway my hips from side to side knowing James will be watching.

"Fuck me like you hate me, huh?" His voice sounds huskier now. He definitely wants it.

"It's not a request, James, it's a pair of panties," I say , as I stand back normal and facing him. He was referring to my panties which read "fuck me like you hate me"across the arse.

"Stop being a cock tease, Alice. Your mother wouldn't stop mediating even if we had sex in-front on her face." He steps towards me, placing his hands either side of me onto the work surface, leaving my back pressing against the counter.

His lips are on mine before I can protest and his hand is under my t-shirt, palming my breast. His kiss moves to my neck and I bite down on my bottom lip. Opening my mouth.

"Fuck," is the only phrase that comes out.

He snickers slightly, pressing his pelvis against my stomach.

"Is that a request or a demand?" he taunts.

Not waiting for an answer, he lifts me off the floor, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he turns and presses me up against the wall.

I am definitely going to be late for school.

* * *

The weather is shitty and I am late. Walking to school in the freezing cold is not my idea of fun. And to take the biscuit, Jasper is now ten minutes late to meet me. I'd called him after me and James had finished, and he had told me to meet him in the school car park. Jasper is my dealer, and had once, a long time ago it seems, been one of my best friends. I was growing more impatient by the second waiting by his car. He is here somewhere, and I guarantee he isn't in gym – which is his first lesson – so where the fuck is he?

"Brandon."

I turn to see who is calling my name, and I see Jasper.

"Finally, where the fuck were you?" I demand, pulling my money out of my pocket, wanting to get this done so I can have a spliff before my next lesson.

"Sorry, darlin', I had to dodge Coach to get out here," he responds, a lazy grin on his face. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the bag of weed. "It was an eighth you wanted, right?"

"Yeah," I answer.

"Wanna sit in my car and get stoned? I could do without English next," Jasper asks. "I have rizla," he continues, noticing my hesitation.

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

After spending my morning being fucked in a kitchen, and then getting stoned with Jasper, I'm tired. Currently sitting in the canteen, Angela's chatting away, but I'm not listening to her. I'm high. I'm in my own bubble. Time moves slower, people move slower, in-fact the only thing still moving remotely fast is Angela's mouth. She's weighing up the pro's and con's of something, and all I can do is smile every time she says the word, 'but'. That's what weed induced giggles will do to you.

Our table is in the far right corner of the room, and I can see every entrance from my view point. I watch people come and go through the doors before turning to the people at the other tables. Sitting on the opposite side of the room to me are two more of my former best friends.

There's Rosalie, who is now the most popular girl in school. Everybody wants her life. She is the envy of most of the population of Forks, not just the high school. She is the perfect mixture of 'Miss High School'. She's beautiful, slim, blonde, relatively smart and she is 'dynamite in bed' - according to the males of Forks high. She is sitting at her usual table, surrounded by far less prettier clones of herself. Each one of them as superficial as the next. There was one point in life when me and Rose were inseparable. That was until we turned thirteen. She discovered boys and make-up, and I discovered my sister had sold all my jewellery to buy heroin.

Emmett is sat at the opposite end of Rose's table. They used dated. They had been together when we were twelve, back when holding hands was a reason to blush and a kiss on the cheek was "advanced".

"Alice?" Angela is waving her hand in front of my face, bringing my attention back to her.

"Sorry, Ange, I zoned out," I apologize weakly.

"You do realise that you have harsh red eye?" Angela asks. I shrug, causing her to laugh and shake her head in disbelief.

The bell rang out and I make my way to class, passing by Edward Cullen as I walk out the doors. Another one of my childhood friends, and the one it hurt the most to lose. I'd known him the longest and now he doesn't even acknowledge me when we pass each other in the halls.

* * *

School is over, and I am back home putting my key in the lock. I am two steps in the door way when I hear moaning. Realising that it is my mum and James having sex, I decide to give home a miss, leaving again. To say that it irritates me that James still sleeps with my mum would be a lie. What irritates me is that_ I _still sleep with him. It pisses me off that I can't turn him down.

It is still cold out, and I am only wearing a white dress with brown wedges. Most of my clothes were hand me downs from my mother, and she's a die-hard hippy. I'd long since grown accustom to being the "hippy girl" at school. I supposed I fit the bill: I smoked weed, made 'free love' and I was a vegetarian.

My house is in what is known locally as "the circle". Right on the edge of town six houses in a circle, all facing outwards, with a small woodland in the middle. What nobody in town knew was that there was a little hut in the heart of the woods. The only people alive who knew of its existence were my old best friends and myself. I hadn't been there in years, I hadn't even though of the place, but here I was - cold and no place to go. I decide to revisit my past.

* * *

I am surprised at how well I remembered the way to the hut. The well trodden path of my youth is now over-grown, but I easily find my way to my long-forgotten hide-out. It looks exactly the same as it did six years ago.

The door has no lock – we had never needed one as children – so I push the door open and enter with no problems. The interior is different though. For starters, the walls are now covered in writing. The first few lines I read seem to be quotes, and I wonder who had found our little hideaway and seen fit to cover the walls in random quotes. The seating is still the same, six different coloured bean bags, all in a circle in the centre of the cabin. My yellow bean bag is still here. A new addition to the cabin is a mattress in the far left corner, complete with sleeping bag. I should be freaking out, thinking that someone's going to barge in any minute and tell me this is their home now, and to get lost. But I'm not. In fact, I quickly forget about the mattress as I enter and close the door behind me. Sitting on my old bean bag, opposite the doorway, I reach in my bra and pull out my little bag of weed and rizla.

Half a spliff later and I am happily enjoying the tingling sensation running under my skin. I'd turned the stereo on which had fresh batteries in (someone must still come by here – and I still didn't give a shit) and was listening to the radio, not paying it any particular attention as I lose myself in my thoughts. It is pure bliss. Occasionally I think I can here voices nearby, but I put it down to my paranoid stoned self tripping out. I should get the fuck out of the cabin now, when it's peaceful, when I'm alone, whilst I'm happy. But I don't.

The door opens suddenly, and my delayed reactions cause me to find out who has entered after they have already shut the door behind themselves.

"Holy fuck, Alice, you gave me a God damn heart attack! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Emmett. Why the fuck are you dressed like Rambo?" He is wearing combat pants, a green tank top and carrying a big black bag.

"I was hunting." He replies, placing his bag on the floor, and sitting in his bean bag, a power ranger one.

To say I look at him like he's bat shit crazy is a bit of understatement.

"Emmett," I begin, in a slow, calm voice as if talking to a child, "You can't hunt in these woods. There aren't enough animals for one, and definitely none big enough to hunt."

He smiles, obviously proud of himself.

"Tell that to the half-dozen dead birds laying around the woods."

I laugh. I'm stoned, and everything is funny when you're high. Even a bunch of dead birds which I would not usually find humour in.

"So what brings you to the cabin of our youth?" he asks, reaching his arm out so I will pass him some of my spliff. I hand it over, albeit reluctantly.

"Oh, you know, just one of them things. You?" I link my fingers, pushing them forward to crack the joints.

"Can't tell you, it's top secret." he coughs out, choking on a draw of the spliff. "Bloody hell, Alice, this stuff is chronic. Who'd you get it off?"

"Can't tell you, it's top secret." I tease, smiling at him.

He smiles back, emphasizing his dimples.

"So what's in the bag?" I ask.

He says nothing, just raises an eye-brow, his smile still on his face.

"Oh, I get it. It's top secret, right?"

He nods, taking another draw on the spliff, before he puts it out on the wooden floor.

"You got anymore weed?" Emmett inquires.

I pull the bag back out from my bra, eliciting a wolf whistle from Emmett.

"Let's get the fucking party started then." He has a wicked glint in his eyes. I pass him the bag and rizla.

Time elapses. It could have been an hour later; it could have been three hours later. All I know for sure is that we are out of weed.

"Fuck this shit, I'm calling Jasper." I tell Emmett.

"Why?" he is obviously confused.

"It's top secret," I tell him, and he laughs. "I need your phone though."

He passed me his phone without even asking why I don't use my own - Cynthia had sold it last week - and I find Jaspers number in his contact list and ring him.

* * *

It doesn't take Jasper long to arrive. He joins the party wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans and a black trilby hat. He looks good.

"That was quick." I comment, he hands me another bag of weed as he sits on his bean bag that has pictures of horses all over. "I'll pay you next week."

"Don't worry about it, darlin'. Call it a freebie. But I'm joining the party." He produces a crate of Budweiser from his side, and I am pleasantly surprised – considering I didn't noticed them when he walked in.

"The more the fucking merrier, dude. How you been,Whitlock?" Emmett immediately strikes up a conversation with Jasper, and I begin building us a new spliff.

* * *

The next arrivals are the funniest, and most surprising of all. It's sudden and unexpected. One moment we're sat laughing, enjoying the buzz of drugs and alcohol. The next thing we know, the door has slammed open and in enters Bella and Edward, lips locked and arms entangled around each other. They were obviously not expecting company.

"Oh shit, this is a party. Free porn and everything!" Emmett jokes, laughing loudly.

Bella and Edward pull apart in shock, facing the three trespassers to their love shack simultaneously.

"What the fuck is this, a happy high school reunion?" Edward jokes, composing himself quickly.

Jasper cracks up into a fit of giggles, as does Emmett.

"Didn't know you two were an item." I say this looking at Bella, who's staring at us all as if in shock.

Edward, noticing where my eyes are focused, glances at Bella, before nudging her. She looks quickly to him, and then back to me.

"We're not," is Bella's reply, and she walks into the room. Taking her place on her bean bag, a midnight blue number with stars all over it, she asks Jasper for a beer.

Edward's eyes stare into Bella as she sits, but she doesn't look up to meet his gaze.

"Joining us? Jasper asks Edward, offering him a beer. He takes it, and sits on Rosalie's bean bag. It is the biggest – naturally - and a shocking pink colour. It's also between Emmett and Jasper, opposite Bella's.

* * *

We've been playing truth or dare for a while, and it's Bella's turn again. She has yet to pick truth. She knows that Emmett would probably ask her about her and Edward, he has always been a nosy shit. Even as kids he had wanted to know the ins and outs of a duck's arse.

"Dare," she tells Emmett, who can't mask his disappointment.

"I dare you to run around the forest. Naked."

I don't know who looks more horrified at the thought, Bella or Edward.

"It's freezing out there," Bella complains, shifting her eyes between Emmett and Edward. It could just be my lack of sobriety, but I'm sure I see Edward shake his head at her.

If he did, Bella didn't listen. As Emmett begins calling her a chicken, and Jasper makes clucking noises, Bella gives in.

"Fine, but if I get frostbite of the fanny I'm gonna kill you."

Emmett whoops and cheers, eagerly helping Bella to her feet. She walks outside and we all follow her out, Edward being the last to leave the cabin. We walk a little into the woods, before Emmett tells Bella to strip. She slips her leather jacket off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. Turning back to look at us over her shoulder, she smiles. Reaching for the straps of her black dress, she pouts and blows a kiss in our direction.

Then we hear the scream.

* * *

Emmett and Jasper run off in the direction of the scream, leaving me alone with the love birds. Great. I walk back inside, leaving Bella and Edward arguing under their breath. If I wanted to watch a domestic I would have stayed home. I return to my bean bag, and carry on drinking my drink, looking out of the open door. It's dark out now, and I wonder who the voice behind the scream belongs to.

Edward and Bella make their way back in, both looking suitably miserable. Jasper and Emmett are not far behind them. Each enter and sit down, bringing along the voice I had been wondering about.

"Rosalie? What the hell are you doing in the woods, in the dark, screaming?" I look her over, she seems to be fine. No obvious cuts or loss of limb.

"She was walking around aimlessly in the forest, carrying a bottle of vodka," Jasper informs me.

"So why the fuck did she scream?" Edward asks, ignoring the fact Rosalie is in the room.

"She thought she saw a bear," Emmett tells Edward, before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"Yeah, you laugh it up, arsehole," Rosalie snaps at Emmett, clearly pissed. "You're in my seat," she points out to Edward."

"Then move somewhere else," Edward snaps back.

"Dick," she spits at him, before taking seat in the only available bean bag. Edward's Action Man bean bag, to be precise.

"Let's get this party started then, shall we?" Emmett is constantly cheerful.

"Well, since Susie high school showed up, I guess we should entertain her," Edward taunts Rosalie.

"Fuck you, Dickward. Why are you all here anyway? You been having secret slumber parties in the cabin without me?" She tries to lighten the mood.

"Jealous?" Edward challenges.

"Alright, calm down you two. Don't make us have to tell your mummy's you've been misbehaving," Emmett intervenes.

Rosalie takes a sudden, long gulp of her drink.

* * *

A while later and it's safe to say we're all wasted.

"Emmett, what the hell is in that bag? I told you my secret." I'm genuinely curious, the bag has been staring at me all night.

Without replying he unzips the bag, pulling the flap forward so we can all peer inside.

"Why on earth are you carrying around guns?" I ask him.

"I told you, I was hunting before."

"Yeah, but those aren't shot guns. Those are revolvers."

He shrugs. "A gun's a gun."

He reaches a hand into the bag and pulls out one of his hunting guns, and licks his tongue across the top of it.

"These are my babies. My lucky guns. I've played Russian Roulette with each gun, and never once got the bullet."

"Russian roulette?" Rosalie asked Emmett.

"Yeah, you know, you put one bullet in the barrel and spin-it. Then place the gun to your temple and pull the trigger. If you don't die, you win," Emmett eagerly informed her.

"You've never played that once in your life," Jasper blasts Emmett.

"Fuck you, I have. Wanna play right now, smart arse?" Emmett wags his eyebrows at Jasper.

"I'll play," Rosalie pipes up, sounding enthusiastic. Crazy bitch.

"You sure?" Emmett asks her, surprise evident in his voice.

"Yeah. I want to play," Rosalie assures him.

"Okay, anyone else?" He looks around the room at all of us.

"I'm in," Jasper tells him.

"Fuck it, why not. Count me in." I'm shocked at my own answer. I not really convinced anyone will play. Not _actually_ play.

"Bella? Edward?" Emmett looks from one to the other, but both of them have their eyes locked on each other.

A moment passes of pure silence.

"I'll play," Bella tells Emmett.

"Okay, so will I," Edward replies, smirking nastily at Bella. She looks upset.

"Fuck yeah. Let's play then!" Emmett whoops, reaching into the bag and pulling out five more guns. He loads each with one bullet. It's the longest wait of my life as he spins each barrel; handing us each a gun. "Okay, it's simple. Place the gun to your temple, and on the count of three you pull the trigger. Ready?"

We all nod, raising our own revolver to our heads.

Emmett begins to count, and I'm surprised to find my mind is surprisingly blank.

"One."

"Two."

He looks at Rosalie. I look at Jasper, who's looking nervous.

"Three."

I pull the trigger.

* * *

Dun...Dun...Dun. ;)Who's POV would you all like to see next?


End file.
